The Left Series (Book 1): Leftovers (17 page)

I shoved the body of Meat Face off my legs, stood up and picked up the pen torch. I had a horrible feeling the raw meat the zombie ate was the dog I’d come to find. I swung the pen light around the kitchen looking for any signs of the dog, whether it was carcass remains or pieces of fur. At least I’d know if he was dead and be able to get the hell out of there.

The kitchen layout was an “L” shape which I hadn’t noticed before. I crept around the area I hadn’t seen and found a big sink with a soap dispenser next to it. I put the pen light and Beretta close to hand on the drainer. I thoroughly washed my face, neck and hands, removing all traces of zombie blood, brains and gore from my skin.

The Rolling Stones ringtone sounded again from my cell phone. I took it from my pocket and answered.

“Brett, it’s Denny,” Rosenberg sounded worried.

“What’s up, Denny?”

“I’m still driving around in circles on the grass but I’m running into problems, Brett. The RV is making grooves in the ground and I have to go slower. The zombies are getting closer and I think one is hanging onto the ladder at the back of the RV. Who, shit…” I heard a clump. “That was close. I just hit another one. I’m getting scared out here, Brett. Have you found the dog yet?”

I didn’t know what to tell him.

“Not yet, Denny,” I said wincing. “How many undead you got out there chasing you?”

“Rough count? Around fifty.”

Shit! More than I thought. “Okay, Denny circle a couple more times then come and meet me at the pavilion door, okay?”

Rosenberg gratefully agreed. I had around five minutes to locate the missing pup. I searched around the kitchen whispering the dog’s name, without any sign of the poor little chap. I moved back into the canteen area and felt relieved to see natural light again. I searched under the tables and around the stage area.

I heard the rumble of the Rosenberg’s RV engine approaching. Time to go. I felt a lump of sorrow in my throat.

“Sorry, Spot,” I said aloud. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save you.”

I waited by the pavilion door. I didn’t want to rush out to the RV and get ambushed by the pursuing zombies. Rosenberg pulled the RV around the square and took several goes to swing it round. He hit the fountain going forward, then the door of the arcade going backwards. He reversed the RV into the doorway of the pavilion cracking the glass frontage. I jumped back inside the doorway, out the way of the vehicle. He pulled the vehicle forward away from the door. I walked around the RV to the driver’s window.

“What the hell are you doing, Denny?” I yelled. “Did you get your driving license in a Christmas Cracker?”

“Brett, we haven’t got time for this. I was trying to shake that zombie off the back of the RV. Is he still there?”

I hadn’t seen any zombies clinging to the vehicle. “There’s nothing there now, Denny.”

“Okay, we got about thirty seconds before those zombies are going to come after us. Did you get the dog?”

Reluctantly, I shook my head and saw a tear in Rosenberg’s eye. He gulped and looked down, avoiding my gaze. I couldn’t keep blaming him for leaving the dog. He was already beating himself up. We’d tried to get the pup back, at least.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said and walked around to the passenger door.

I stopped when my cell phone rang again.

“Wilde man?” Smith’s voice grated through my phone.

“Yeah?”

“Find your dog?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. I know you liked that little mutt.” Smith’s voice sounded tired and far away.

“Listen, Smith, we got to run. We’re by the pavilion and got the whole campsite full of zombies about to rain down on us. We’ll be with you soon.”

“Hang on there, Wilde man,” Smith interrupted. “If you’re by the pavilion, just nip into that store and pick us up some more booze will you?”

“Ah, you’re fucking kidding me, man.”

“If you’re quick, I know you can do it,” Smith was almost pleading.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I sighed and cut the connection.

“Come on, Brett,” Rosenberg whined. “They’re coming.”

I looked to the end of the square and saw the zombies staggering around the corner. “Hang on. I’ll be two minutes. I have to collect something from the store,” I said.

“Brett, we don’t have two seconds, let alone two minutes,” Rosenberg called as I ducked into the broken store window.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The interior of the convenience store grew darker. The shadows of the racks and shelves loomed blacker than last time I stood in the store. I didn’t know why I was doing this for Smith. Collecting a load of booze was putting mine and Rosenberg’s lives in danger.

I picked up a shopping basket by the cash till and decided to make it two baskets. What the hell? I loaded one with beers from the fridge and left it on the floor. I took the other basket around the side of the cash till when I heard a moan from behind me. I spun around and saw a male zombie who had been a teenager in life, lumbering towards me.

The only option was to use the Beretta. I drew the weapon from my waist band and silently prayed I hadn’t used the whole magazine clip back in the pavilion kitchen. I aimed at the creature’s head, unlocked the safety catch and fired two shots. To my surprise, the zombie went down. I slowly moved closer to the felled zombie with the weapon still drawn. The zombie lay prone on its back with a neat bullet hole just above each eye. Maybe my aim was slightly improving or I’d just got lucky.

I replaced the weapon in my waist band and carried on pilfering. I took two bottles of bourbon, a bottle of vodka and a bottle of gin. I’d never tried gin and wondered what it tasted like. I took a few packs of cigarettes, a bottle of club soda and a bottle of tonic water. I threw the lot into the second shopping basket and hoped the booze stash would keep Smith happy.

I picked up the basket of beer by the fridge, crept to the door and looked out into the square. The zombies lurched forward about ten yards from the front of the RV. I saw Rosenberg sitting in the driver’s seat, not knowing whether to flee without me. I grabbed both baskets and was about to crawl through the broken door space. A whimpering noise stopped me in my tracks.

I retraced my steps back to the cash till and saw Spot the pup huddled behind the serving counter. His ears were low on the side of his head and he trembled in the half light. He was alive, I couldn’t believe it.

I put the baskets on the counter top and picked up the little mutt. He whimpered again and licked my face. I gave him a quick check over for bites but couldn’t see any. He seemed a little upset but physically he was okay. I tucked him under the crook of my arm, grabbed the shopping baskets and made for the door.

The zombies banged their hands on the front of the RV. I ducked through the bottom of the convenience store door. The dipping sunlight hit me and blurred my vision. The weight of the bottles of booze and the awkward angle I held the dog nearly made me lose my footing.

The zombies moaned and started in my direction. I heard Rosenberg yelling something inaudible from inside the RV. The way to the passenger door was now blocked with a stream of zombie campers.

I made for the RV side door. I had to put down one of the baskets to open the door. I tried the handle and found it locked. I banged the door. My panic levels began to rise.

Rosenberg must have seen me trying to get into the RV in the side mirrors in the cab. He flung the side door open with a look of panic and relief on his face.

“Brett, we got to…” he stammered.

“I know, let’s go,” I cut him off, loading in the shopping baskets. I handed Rosenberg the dog and made for the cab.

“You found him,” Rosenberg shouted. “I thought we’d never see you again,” he cooed, cuddling Spot.

The zombies surrounded the RV and began slapping and clawing at the windows. I jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the transmission into drive. I gave a quick look to check the cab side doors were locked. Rosenberg, being ultra cautious, had already locked them.

“Hang on, Rosenberg,” I yelled, flooring the gas pedal.

The RV lurched forward, knocking several zombies out of its path. One zombie previously banging the wind shield disappeared from view completely. I realized he must have gone under the wheels when I heard a crunching of bones. The rattling sound of breaking crockery crashed from the RV living space as we sped up.

I kept going, accelerating faster as the RV departed the Pavilion Square. I didn’t slow the RV when we came to the speed bumps. The vehicle jolted as we drove over them and the exhaust scraped over the tarmac. I looked in the side view mirrors and saw a few zombies who were hanging onto the RV, fly off onto the roadside and roll over and over like they’d tumbled out of a huge washing machine.

Rosenberg staggered through the door into the cab and sat in the passenger’s seat. He still cuddled Spot, who looked a little more at home now. I didn’t know what the little guy had gone through since we left him.

“Where did you find him?” Rosenberg asked.

“In the store, by the cash till,” I winced as the RV lurched over another speed hump.

I looked in the side view mirrors. The zombies still gave chase but dropped a little further back. I was just glad these bastards couldn’t run. The main attacking element a zombie had was surprise. Someone could easily be paralyzed with a combination of surprise and shock at the sight of a zombie, especially if they had known them in their past life. Getting away from the undead was fairly easy if you had a weapon to hand and a decent getaway vehicle.

“I think we are going to get away with it this time, Denny,” I laughed as we passed under the campsite welcome sign for the last time.

“Thank Christ for that,” Rosenberg sighed. “I don’t know why you went back in that store to get a load of booze but I’m glad you did.” He cuddled Spot and stroked his head.

“With all we’ve been through over the last day or so, I sure could use a drink,” I said.

We caught up with the others by the woods, five minutes later. Smith and Eazy had already started digging Donna’s grave. They were stripped to the waist digging the soil. A large mound of earth was piled by the hole between two trees on the edge of the woods. Donna’s bloody remains lay covered in blankets next to the hole. Batfish and Julia were cleaning the mess inside the VW. I stopped the RV behind the camper and cut the engine, blowing out a relieved sigh. I felt exhausted and in need of sleep.

“You made it back in one piece then, Wilde man,” Smith called out.

“Look who we found,” said Rosenberg, holding up the pup for the others to see.

“That’s great,” Smith said with a hint of sarcasm. “Did you get the booze?”

I walked around to the side door of the RV and retrieved the two shopping baskets of beer, liquor and cigarettes. I held them up slightly and saw Smith’s face break into a big grin.

“Atta boy,” he said.

I noticed an empty bourbon bottle on the ground by the hole. Maybe they’d decided to hold Donna’s wake early, even before she was buried. I handed Smith and Eazy a can of beer each and took one for myself. I looked around to offer Rosenberg one but he was busy talking to the girls.

“How deep are you going to go?” I asked pointing to the hole.

Smith and Eazy must have dug quickly as they were already up to their waists inside the hole.

“A couple more feet ought to do it,” Eazy said.

I noticed that both Smith and Eazy’s upper bodies were covered in tattoos. Smith had a large American eagle etched across his back. Eazy had a series of small tribal markings around his arms and on his chest.

“Good cartoons,” I said pointing to their tattoos.

“Huh, we already had this conversation,” Eazy smiled at Smith. Not only did they compare hand guns but tattoos as well.

“Smith here, had his done when he was in the Marine Corps,” Eazy gestured to Smith with his beer can.

I was surprised. I couldn’t imagine a reprobate like Smith taking orders in the Marine Corps.

“A long time ago,” Smith sighed.

We spent another hour under the shade of the trees, digging the hole, drinking beer and talking about our lives. Rosenberg briefly came over to see how we were getting along. Batfish nipped over to grab a beer each for her and Julia. She seemed like she didn’t want to spend much time near Donna’s corpse.

Eazy went over to the VW to tell Batfish when we decided the hole was dug deep enough. A dead body in a shallow grave would be like the smell of steak on a barbecue to a zombie. My guess was we’d gone about four feet deep into the ground. Not an easy amount of earth to be dug up by animals or zombies.

I saw Batfish shake her head. She didn’t want to participate in her friend’s burial. Eazy strolled back over, shaking his head.

“She don’t want to see Donna buried. She just wants us to do it quick and get it over and done with,” he said.

We took hold of Donna’s body and maneuvered it into the hole.

“Does someone want to say any words?” Smith asked.

“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust or some shit like that,” Eazy said, shoveling the earth over Donna’s blanket covered body. “See ya princess.” He blew a kiss.

Smith and I had nothing more to add so we started shoveling the earth back in the hole. The sun dipped and we finished filling the hole as the light faded to twilight. It had been another hell of a day where I’d seen death in several ways.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Will Batfish be okay about spending the night here?” I asked Eazy. I thought we would all benefit from a decent night’s sleep or at least a few hours each. “We could sleep in the RV. It’s pretty solid and all the locks on the doors work.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Eazy said, lighting a smoke.

We carried the shovels and baskets of booze back towards the vehicles. Batfish looked shattered and agreed to spend the night where we were parked. Rosenberg worked out how to use the shower in the RV and we all took a turn. The shower wasn’t very powerful or warm but I felt a hell of a lot better after a good wash. We moved our gear inside the RV for the night.